Far Away Fight
by book-keeper25
Summary: The Picto have left, but in their place a new stronger race has captured Earth and its nations. Once back on the invaders planet, they are forced to fight creatures beyond their imaginations. They fight to stay alive, since their only true reward is each other. Rated for language and violence mostly, plus some smut and VERY TEMPORARY character death much much later. USUK and others
1. Chapter 1

**I'm back lovelies! This story was a request by CartoonCouples101 and it is gonna be CCCRRAAAZZZYYYY! XD Hopefully I won't (finally) be kicked off for the later chapters. haha! I hope you all enjoy. I am still getting used to the whole Sci-Fi genre so you get to see me grow with that. If any of you have suggestions/tips for Sci-Fi writing PLEASE message me. Chapter 2 will be much longer than this intro and should be up soon. Without further ado, enjoy~**

On their return journey from Earth, the Pictonian army had a lot to discuss. Their initial plan of intergalactic domination had be thwarted by an odd ball team of nations, the leader (though he did not look the type) being a very cheerful yet easily frightened fellow with an interesting ability to see without his eyes open. Not that the Pictonians naturally had eyes themselves, but they had always assumed that should a species possess them, they were necessary. Their own leader, their Princess, had held the face-making treasure given to her as a gift from the Earth nation the entire journey back into their side of the Universe, making plans of spreading its wonders throughout the planet.

Unfortunately it was not to be. None of their plans were. Looking back now, many of the Pictonians wished that they had conquered Earth, if only to have another strong hold in their command. As it was when they returned to their home planet only to find it completely over taken by an invading force, they were taken aback and depressingly outmatched. The High Prince Petierre Dallema, was the leader of the Révoluti Fleet. His father, the King, was back on his home planet, though this recent victory had encouraged him to take certain steps to rid him of a longer wait for the throne. He quickly captured the Princess and held her captive as the Picto planet fell to the power to his forces.

"I should thank you, Princess." He spoke in a language far different than the common Pictonian. However the Princess could almost make out his words, as his speech patterns were similar to a few of the languages she had heard on Earth. "Had you and your...crew," he paused for a disgusted chuckle. "though it seems ridiculous to call a ship with this few members even that. But I digress. Had you not decided to conquer the Earth planet, I may not have been inspired to try my own hand at the conquest game. Your planet is not the first in this quadrant of the galaxy to become mine and it shall not be the last." The Princess gripped her marker tightly in her hands.

"We do not think that way anymore." She stated calmly. "Our people have learned much from the Earthling nations. Of peace." Petierre laughed viciously. He gripped his thick, hide covered, uniform as he regained composure.

"What good is peace, Pictonian, if all the people want is violence?" He pressed a combination of buttons on his nearby stand before multiple video feeds appeared. The majority of the feeds showed animals and beasts, most of which the Princess had never seen and never wished to see again. They were apparently caged, or at least restrained for the moment, but still lashing about as their keepers attempted to clean around or even feed them. Another video feed popped up and showed a high sky view of a coliseum. Thousands and thousands of beings could easily fill the seats to watch whatever spectacles unfolded on the hard rocky surface of the arena.

"That place isn't on Picto, is it?" She asked desperately hoping such violence, as what often accompanied a coliseum of that magnitude, had not found a place on her beloved planet.

"Of course not, stupid girl. This is on my home planet, Accufort." The Princess squeezed her marker tighter, if only to keep from laughing in pity. Even the name of the plant this conqueror had come from sounded primitive and naïve. Suddenly his large form was in front of her and his gruff, nearly swine-like, face was pressed into her space. He was so close that she could count the numerous thick scars that twisted his features.

"Now, why don't we see if your Earth has any worthy opponents for my favorite pets." He quickly grabbed the marker, pushing the Princess aside as she struggled to keep it from him, and placed it into a scanner. He quickly viewed the scan's data, along with the Pictonian ship's data about Earth and its powerful Nations. Petierre viewed pictures, videos, and information regarding each country and he could not help but begin laughing again. He had never dreamed of such powers in a single being until he saw the feats accomplished by the personified nations of Earth. Even the weakest Nations seemed to have stronger endurance than he had ever seen. "Set a course for Earth. We shall resume our conquering there." he shouted as he turned back to the Princess. He bowed mockingly as she was seized again. "I thank you, Princess of Picto. You have given my people the show of their lifetimes." He turned back to his screens and the silent Princess was taken away.

Had the Princess her marker, the first mark she would have drawn on herself would have been tears.


	2. Chapter 2

**So here's chapter 2. Sorry I took so long, but I am starting college this coming Monday and had Band Camp all this past week. Apparently band helps me with inspiration. Music in general really... now I am rambling. I hope this doesn't suck. Be warned, kinda wordy. Lots of descriptions. Not beta reviewed, so if there are mistakes/confusing parts PLEASE let me know. I am still tweaking how I want this style of writing to sound, so it will change a good bit. Hope you enjoy.**

England rolled up the stained sleeves on his Oxford shirt as he walked down the old worn down streets leading outside of his beloved London. His once shined to perfection loafers were dull with dirt and his trousers were starting to fray at the meticulously hemmed edges, thanks to the rubble he had to wade through day in and day out.

After the Pictonian forces had left Earth and the world had returned to normal, amongst the celebrations taking place across the world was the general consensus to prepare for future extraterrestrial encounters, be they peaceful or otherwise. They had not been anywhere near fast enough. Not that any of them knew how fast intergalactic travel could be for other life forms, but at least England had assumed it would take long enough for some progress to be made, at least on the militaristic side (the diplomatic side was a lost cause, what with how long it took any government to get real work done). No such luck. In barely a month's time a new force came, much larger and much stronger than the Pictonians. England could easily relate the evening to that of the London Blitzkrieg – citizens running from the streets to avoid the falling debris the alien weapons made of their buildings, hiding in their cellars praying to whatever force held their faiths that it would soon be over and that they would come out of it alive, and the English nation himself being able to nothing to stop it except hide along side them, his only comfort that _this _time he was not the only Nation experiencing the seizing pain of their country being raised to the ground.

After the initial attack, many of Earth's people had been taken prisoner or killed in order to show the sincerity of the invasion. They gave no objective, other than their planet, its resources, and their weapons no longer belonged to them. It rather amused everyone when they used their inspiring technology to locate every last nuclear warhead in under a week. Who knew how many were right under their noses...? Many of the world leaders had attempted multiple forms of diplomacy to save at least their own nation's people from either slavery or death, but the lack of unity in their chaotic and frightened minds served only amuse the invaders, and most of them were killed for it as well.

It was at this point that the Nations went into hiding. None of them knew what would happen to them if they were captured but they did not want to stick around and find out. England took to the empty Moors and forests of his home, carrying with him only two things: his most used spell book and the one true Book of Merlin. As he set out, he bid farewell to his mystical friends. He did not think they would be noticed by these aliens, but never one to try his luck, he begged them to retreat to safer planes and far off dimensions. Parting ways with Flying Mint Bunny was the hardest. He couldn't help but save him for last. They simply sat in silence for a while then talking about the past and all the distant memories that came with it. They may have sat there for days and England wouldn't have noticed. Without much more than a light nuzzle the creature was gone and England, for the first time in over two thousand years, felt truly alone.

Now all he could do was walk. He'd spend a few days at a time in abandoned (or close to it) villages before moving on. That was how he hid best, by constantly moving. He was not stopped by anything or anyone until he reached his coastline. It was one of the few random stretches of land that actually connected with the sea and had no dock or town in sight near it. He sat down and stared at the dark waters in front of him and wondered how many of his people – his children – had perished in this onslaught. Not enough to make him disappear obviously, but that thought made him fairly resentful. Why couldn't he die like all the others? Why could he not fight beside them and die an honorable fighting death? He stopped his thoughts there and shook his head clear. That was crossing into rocky territory that branched across too many generations to bother counting.

England did not know when he fell asleep, but when he woke up he was covered in cool mist and could see the sun coming in from East. He stood and stretched his sore muscles but paused when he saw a figure on the water. It looked as though it were a person on a raft, though they were coming into shore rather quickly for that. Perhaps they were on a small motor boat, but from the direction they were coming, it would be insane to take only a small boat. The figure on the boat stared moving (waving?) and the wind carried their voice to England's ears.

"Good lord, I can't believe he did this." The sound of his own voice was becoming new to him, but he cleared his throat as he walked down to the shore and waited for the kind whale to drift close enough for his owner to jump into the water and swim in. When America stood back up, flicking the drenched hair from his face, he was wearing the brightest smile England had seen in a long time.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Is that the way you say hello to the guy that just rode in on a fucking whale to find you?" he asked with a small laugh. England crossed his arms over his tomes and raised an ever magnificent eyebrow at his drenched lover.

"You didn't so much as find me as got lucky when picking a direction to steer that animal. Now, I ask again, what are you doing here?" America laughed again, though England recognized that laugh as one similar to the one he held close after the 9-11 attacks – short and lacking substance.

"I just didn't want you to be by yourself. Thought I'd swing by and see how it's hangin' on this side of the Atlantic." No hero jokes. No ridiculous proclamations of worry. No cracks at how England could not possibly take care of himself. It spoke volumes.

"And what of your side?" England asked warily. America sighed and looked back out to sea where his pet whale was still swimming contently.

"It's hard to tell. Some days feel kinda normal, but then other days..." England watched as America's eyes darkened slightly but then return to normal as he looked his way again. He laughed again. "I think I know what you old ex-empires feel like now."

"Well, I suppose, we've been expecting you. I'm afraid we don't have jackets for this club though."

"Nah, it's cool. I wouldn't trade this old bomber for anything." He said as he gestured to his soaking wet jacket. They spent a few moments in silence, not sure who was going to break first. No matter what facade they liked to play in front of others, they were not blind to the fact that the whole world knew they were an item of sorts. It barely did them justice to call them lovers. They were partners, in every sense of the word. They supported each other in every way they could and always would. Neither of the countries realized they had fallen into the other's arms until they were already there. In between and even during the occasional kiss they were whispering jumbled messages, assurances, promises, apologizes, all without really caring what it was they were saying.

America finally pulled away, but did not unwrap his arms from England's form.

"Where to now, Holmes?"

"We aren't on some case, you know. We are supposed to be in hiding."

"No one ever said we couldn't hide in pairs." He winked and turned back to his faithful whale. He cupped one hand around his mouth and whistled the last two lines of 'Amazing Grace' with impeccable accuracy. The tune traveled easily and reached the whale, who slowly and calmly swam out a ways before diving into the deep. America buried his face in England's hair and tried to bask in the feeling of being held back for a while longer. The pair traveled up the coast for a while, and stopped after finding a small fishing town that would take them in for a night or two. They made love only once, as another assurance that the other was really there, and afterwords fell asleep talking of what they could do for the time being.

"Is this what you expected when you dreamed of life on other planets?" England asked as they laid together in naught but their sweat and blanket.

"You mean the whole hostile take-over? Hell no. I guess I knew they would show up soon though. As soon as the Pictos left, Tony took off to touch base with his own planet – don' give me that look, he isn't working for the baddies or anything." England tried to release the look of suspicion and hatred from his face.

"He had better be off getting help..."

"Pfft! Is Arthur Kirkland asking for help?" England lightly whacked America with the hand that had been conveniently wrapped around his head.

"A passing thought only, I assure you." America was beginning drifting off when England whispered to him again. "Alfred?"

"Mmph?" America mumbled back.

"...Why did you come here of all places? ...And on a bloody whale no less." England would never grow tired of that damn laugh.

"Because I," A yawn interrupted him. "I love you Artie." England chose to keep his dignity and did not respond.

The next morning the pair was greeted by the owner of the house they spent the night in making a modest breakfast. She was a portly woman, but carried herself with the matriarchal strength and pride of any female elephant. She may have been younger than she looked, but England was not about to blame her appearance on anything less than the recent world events.

"You laddies sleep tight?" She asked as she set two plates of eggs and toast in front of them. America gratefully dug in while England waited for the more than likely sad excuse for tea to be set in front of him.

"Yes, thank you very much. You are very kind for taking us in." he said politely and sipped his tea. It was only his severe craving for the water and leaf solution that pushed him for a second gulp.

"No trouble. Most people would keep to their own these days, but I say offer what 'elp you can. Though, uh,... will I be needin' to change the sheets?" What amount of tea England had been attempting to swallow was promptly spat back out. The only reason America paused in his eating was because most of the liquid landed on him.

"Duuuuudddee! What the –?" England interrupted and addressed their hostess.

"I am terribly sorry, but are you implying that we... umm...?" The woman raised her hands and stood to fetch the sputtering American a dish cloth.

"I meant no offense. Though I must say if it was meant to be a secret, you might have noticed the squeaks and scratches that bed makes when rattled so." England paled and stopped breathing for a moment. "Worry not, dearies. If there was ever a time to show someone else you love them, now is that time. Now then, I'll be in the kitchen if you need anythin'. God bless ya both." With that she was gone and left the two nations in a confused but simultaneously comforted silence.

After leaving the town the two nations' existence narrowed down to two very simple objectives – keep moving and don't be found. They had to assume that the other nations of the world were hidden and safe, lest the nagging feeling of dread eat at them too much when there was food to scavenge and/or barter for. England had his magic of course, but the few times he used it he found himself too tired to move much for the rest of the day. They continued back and forth the British countryside for almost a month before they were discovered.

They had been sitting quietly on a hill, taking a quick rest when the wind began to pick up around them. It was only after they found themselves in a holding cell that they realized it was from one of the ships. As soon as the countries realized what had happened they both went into a wild rage in an attempt to escape. England tried to calm himself down after shouting curses of varying languages and reference, knowing that banging his fists against a wall was certainly not going to work, even with what was left own nation's strength (not to mention entirely ungentlemanly). America was not so quick to calm down and very nearly broke his foot with the force his kicked the wall with.

"FUCK! You gotta be fucking kidding me!" America hopped up and down, gripping his foot and hissing in pain. England groaned and sat the younger country down in order to better examine his injury.

"Bloody idiot. What would you have done if you actually hurt yourself. Could have bloody well kicked your damn foot off." The two remained mostly quiet, only America chiming in to voice his anger every now and again. They would see no other life for what England felt like was a day. America, tired from all his yelling, fell asleep on England's shoulder to the sound of his partner's humming. When an alien soldier came into the room, England instinctively curled around America to protect him while he glared daggers at the invader. The guard motioned for them to follow him and pointed a very sharp looking weapon at them. England didn't break eye-contact with the tall and armored figure before him as he turned his figure slightly and shook America back awake.

"I'm sorry, love, but we need to go now." America groggily opened his eyes and looked around. As soon as he had gathered his wits and realized what was going on he tried to stand and beat the living shit out of the being that stood before him. The guard readied himself to strike back, but England grabbed America before he could take so much as two quick steps.

"England-!"

"GIT! What will you do, take them all down by yourself?!" They silently were led to another holding cell a level or so up from theirs. This one seemed larger, as though it was more for storage than holding captives. Once the large metal door closed behind them they noticed others where there too, but not humans. Nations.

"Aiyaah! You too?"

"Angleterre! What are we to do now?!"

"We would not have been captured if you all had become one with me, da?"

"WWWAAAHHH! GERMANY WHAT DO WE DOOOOO?" The shouting and general confusion of almost every notable nation of Earth continued to resound through the room.

"Wait a minute? You guys were captured too?" America asked as they all moved closer together. Most simply nodded or looked to the ground in shame. Germany stepped forward and spoke for the group, as was custom.

"We were all in hiding for at least 2 weeks each. Unfortunately they managed to slowly but surely discover our locations." America kept his glare, a common expression on many of the nations' faces. He moved back to one of the metal walls and drew a hand back to punch. Canada and England both tried to call out and stop him, but before they barely said his name, the incredible strength of the American nation had created a sizable dent in the tough wall. He didn't acknowledge his broken and bleeding fist as he moved to sit back by his quietly fussing brother and his shocked and worriedly angered lover.

Approximately an hour after America and England had been brought into the room, a loud beep and a garbled mess of words began to screech across an intercom system. It was in the invaders native language, and no one could make it out completely.

"Good lord. Does that sound like the Frog's language?" Everyone turned to the grimacing Frenchman, who covered his ears and shook his head.

"Merde! It is as though someone has taken the very roots of my beautiful language and left the to die in England's cooking pot." No one paid England's retorts as Hungary stepped forward.

"Wait. Does that mean you can make out what they are saying?" She asked with a strong but anxious glance. France shook his head.

"If I wanted to subject my ears to this mess. I cannot do it though. These ears shall never do it." England groaned and sifted through the pages of one of his magic Tomes.

"You're lucky I am too put out to deal with even YOU Frog-Face. Hang on just a tic, everyone." A few people backed farther away from the room in order to better protect themselves from any of England's famous backfires. It took England a good fifteen minutes to draw out an acceptable magik circle on the rough metal floor of the storage room, using only the everyday object all the nations happened to have. After surveying his work he seriously asked everyone to back away and keep their 'gobs shut, est something unexpected arrive'. He took a slow but determined step into the circle and began reading from his book. Everyone kept quiet and watched one of the normally very private activities of one of the most magical beings in the entire world. After a number of lines were read (in what any of the nation's would have described as the Old Language), the circle shone brightly. With a shout of the final lines, England reached out his hand and a vortex the size of a large dinner plate appeared before him. It crackled and sizzled and swirled with so many colors it was hard to tell which ones it contained. He reached his hand into the loud mass.

"China, give me your wok, now!" China felt compelled to obey and held out the cooking implement. England began dropping small, wiggling, yellow objects into the wok, reaching back into the vortex until he had retrieved enough. When he was satisfied he quickly closed the portal with a forceful yell and wide arm movements. After a few moments of silence England nearly collapsed onto the ground, had America not been there to catch him. The young nation looked into the wok and scrunched his face up at the sight of the wrinkly fish that England had seemed to obtain. Then his brain began to notice similarities between these little alien life forms and another creature he had heard about. Not from Tony, but from a movie; though England would have hated him forever had he not read the books first.

"Arthur... are those... babel fish?" he asked in curiosity and horror. England sighed and nodded.

"Indeed, love, they are." America carefully set the exhausted Englishman down away from the circle and looked him in the eye.

"But... they-"

"Are based off of real creatures. Truly great fiction always has the slightest touch of truth slipped in, otherwise it wouldn't connect with people. What? You think Mary Poppins wasn't real?" America's face contorted into one of shock and awe and England waved it away. "Save that face for about ten seconds from now. Yao, if you would?" Yao walked over with his wok and presented it to England, who expertly caught a small fish and quickly shoved it down America's ear.

"Shit! What the _fuuuuckk_?!" America jumped up and banged on his ear as he jumped around and twitched at the feeling of a live creature in his ear canal. England could not stop his quiet chuckles, even as he addressed the other nations.

"Alright then, form a queue." With all of the babel fish successfully administered, the nations began to discuss their next course of action. Or they tried at least. Before long they were fighting as they always did over what each of them considered the best plan.

"Can't we just go kick their asses and take over the ship?!"

"Nice try, aru. But not all of us like the idea of being completely overwhelmed."

"Oui! Why doesn't Monsieur Merlin over there conjure us a portal out of here?"

"Don't you dare use that name lightly! And I am far too weak to do that kind of distance travel, or did you forget all of our countries have practically been destroyed!?"

The fighting continued until their voices were quiet enough (sore enough) to hear a quick knock of the door before a small regiment of guards appeared. The apparent leader stepped forward.

"His majesty the High Prince Petierre Dallema will see you now." America spoke first.

"Fuck."


End file.
